


Queen of Frost

by Yidenia



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Lonely Elsa, Magic, Sisters, Smart Anna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-06 19:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yidenia/pseuds/Yidenia
Summary: When the heir presumptive's powers manifested, instead of locking her at home, the King and Queen of Arendelle sent her away. Anna grew up without much memory of her sister, while Elsa, stricken with guilt, feels unable to face her family even though she misses them terribly. When the King and Queen perish at sea, the sisters must reunite for the sake of Arendelle. Blood may be thicker than water, but will that be enough to bring Elsa and Anna back together?





	1. News from the Sea

In the library, she woke up with a feeling of dread.

The candle had almost burned out. She could feel the imprint of pages on her face as she raised her head, snow-white hair flattened on one side where it had rested on the tome. There was a layer of frost over everything in the library; likely a consequence of her own cold disquiet. It was still dark outside, and all was quiet. The other students had gone to bed hours ago.

Elsa tried to pinpoint what it was that woke her, and if there was a real source of the apprehension thrumming in her chest. She felt like something very bad had happened. Was it just a dream? She did not remember any dream.

 _You're imagining things,_ she told herself, and rubbed at her cheek in a half-hearted attempt to smooth away the marks. She looked down at the volume, open to the middle of a chapter concerning storm spells.  _Hard to summon and hard to disperse,_ she remembered reading, before fatigue had overwhelmed her at some point.

She reached out and closed the book.

She blew out the candle, and tucked the tome under her arm.

She went out to the hall, lit with slow-burning candles as well, all placed in front of mirrors to enhance the brightness. The doors of the library clicked closed behind her, and she felt suddenly numb and light, adrift in this corridor, all by herself. This place between places, that was nowhere on its own.

Morning class would start in a few hours. She would likely feel tired; though she had slept a little, she had still stayed up far later than she probably should have.  _I should probably skip breakfast, or take something to go._ It was not completely unusual for students to eat in class, though the trolls frown upon it. Still, Bulda liked her, as Elsa was an accomplished and hard-working student, so she would likely let this slide.

Through the lobby, down the tunnel, up the stairs into the dorms. The school was constructed so that each building was connected via an underground network, and though Elsa often preferred the outdoors where it was nice and chilly, tonight she wanted the lights along the walls.

The quiet and stillness, though, made Elsa nervous. She was not sure why; she had stayed up late before. On occasion there would be another student creeping about, but she had gone back to her dorm many times through the years just like this, with no one around and no life around her. She was not sure what bothered her now, other than that unsettled feeling that something was wrong.

 _You're imagining things,_ she told herself again, but could not quite shake the anxiety.

She eventually reached her room, which she had to herself; in the beginning, the school tried to room her with other girls, but she kept bringing the temperature down in her sleep, which led to complaints. Eventually, the school simply placed her in a single room. She did not like any of the other girls, and they did not like her, so the arrangement was favorable. This way, everything was in its rightful place, and Elsa could come and go as she pleased.

She set the book on the dressing table, before changing into her nightgown. Her mind was already drifting before her head hit the pillow. She dreamed of palaces made of ice crystals, such beautiful things as no one had ever beheld before. When the light radiated through the prisms, they cast a rainbow of colors. She stood on the balcony to gaze down from the mountaintop and the snow that gathered over the many hills and peaks beyond, the evergreens standing solemn, the glaciers, slowly crunching. Beyond the cliffs lay the expanse of the sea, and snow flurried thick and white from the clouds.

She dreamed of her mother, a soft, warm hand on her cheek.

Her father, lifting her up into the air, so that she felt like she was flying.

Anna, running to her, arms outspread in that universal request for a hug—

**_Dong._ **

**_Dong._ **

The bells were ringing.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains. Elsa could not move for a moment, limbs heavy with sleep. When she finally pulled herself to sit up, she strongly considered taking the day off. She felt slightly sick, though it was not the kind of discrete illness that would justify missing class. More like trepidation, the kind of weakness that comes from sheer horror and apprehension.

Clairvoyance was not Elsa's power. She was an elemental. There was nothing about ice that could predict the future, so no one would believe her if she claimed that something was wrong, that something was going to go wrong.

 _Tough it out, the way you always do,_ she told herself.  _Swallow it down, conceal, don't feel, don't let it get a hold of you._

Elementals were a powerful sort of mage. The raw elements could do a lot of physical damage, and so elemental mages were formidable. They also had the least control over their powers, and generally cause more trouble than good. In the school, there were seven others: a fire elemental, who helps with the lighting and heating in the various buildings and dorms; a metal elemental, who could manipulate anything with enough metal in it; one lightning elemental, who was interested in joining some military; two wind elementals, who liked to play pranks on others, one water elemental. As far as Elsa could tell, the others also generally kept to themselves just as she did; their powers were so volatile that it annoyed the other students. She always thought that at least elemental magic could be seen; clairvoyance or telepathy and mind-control on the other hand, were all things that were hard to detect, but students generally liked how subtle they are. "Finesse", some of them called it. Elementals lacked "finesse". It got to the point where some would say that elementals were stupid, because "they do not use a lot of brain" in contrast to psychics and growers, who needed a great deal of concentration and mental dexterity to cast their spells properly. Regardless of the validity, it was true that elemental magic relied more on emotion than thought, which meant that most of the time, Elsa was being told to control her temper. "Control your emotions." _Control yourself._

At this point, stamping out her feelings had become second nature. Sometimes Elsa could almost feel herself asphyxiating. It was easy to distract from emotions when there was a lot to read about, to intellectualize, and so she did that until she was too tired to feel anything anymore. She wondered if one day she would be unable to summon any emotion at all. Maybe that would be the day her powers finally go away.

Drowsiness made her movements slow, and her reluctance to face the day did not help. By the time she was fully dressed, her hair redone and tucked into a bun, there was no time for breakfast after all. She took her bag with her assignments and went out into the hall.

No one was around now; everyone had gone to breakfast, or class.

Bulda, the professor of mathematics, was already collecting everyone's homework assignments by the time Elsa arrived. A bunch of students were at their desks, digging through their folders. Elsa mingled with the rest.

"You children are in for a treat today!" Bulda was exclaiming. "You've all learned about single integrals; today, we get to work with  _double_ integrals! Yes, along the 'x' and 'y' axes! And it is literally symbolized with two integral signs. And yes, mathematicians can be reasonable once in a while."

She was a very animated teacher, very motherly. Short and stout like the other trolls, she was almost never without a smile on her face. In the early days when Elsa first arrived at the school, Bulda often spent time with her, making sure she was not too homesick. She did have a way of lifting Elsa's spirits with a funny joke or an easy observation. Later on, though, more students arrived, ones who were just as frightened and lonely. Bulda stopped having too much time for Elsa, though by then it could be argued that Elsa no longer needed her as much. Still, she was approachable and kind, though no pushover; Bulda could be very particular about certain things, like people eating in class. Luckily, Elsa did not have time to grab breakfast anyway.

Elsa was fairly awake for the first five minutes as Bulda hopped over to the board to draw the symbols, but her mind kept whiting out, and the world would muffle around her, like a windless snowstorm in the night. Her eyes felt very dry, and her vision was blurry. She blinked and rubbed her eyes until they nearly hurt.

At some point, Bulda gave everyone an assignment to do in class, and a hush fell over the room as heads bent over their desks. Elsa copied everyone's postures but had to sneak a glance at the board to guess what they were doing. She had read about double integrals before, but math was always one of those subjects that only made sense after practice. It was not something Elsa could simply  _read_ to understand. Missing Bulda's earlier explanation meant that Elsa had no idea where to start.

Fortunately, Bulda was in a good mood, and was content to pick only the students who raised their hands. Elsa saw snow, heard the lapping of waves against icebergs drifting above the ocean floor. Cold, cold and dark.

"Elsa, child?"

Elsa jerked. The students were already packing their bags. Bulda was looking up at her in worry.

"Are you alright, dear?" the troll asked.

That feeling of dread was back again, and Elsa had no idea why.

"Did you eat breakfast today?"

Elsa shook her head.

Bulda scowled. "You should know better than to miss that! And you look like you haven't been sleeping well. Why don't you go along to Brock and have him take a look at you?"

Elsa did not want to see Brock. She knew why she was so tired. Still, she had already been caught, and if this would allow her to miss the rest of the day, all the better.

"Alright," she agreed.

She expected some sneers from her classmates, but none of the students were particularly interested once it was apparent that Bulda was not going to punish Elsa for falling asleep in her class. Elsa packed her bags and was the last one out, with Bulda calling out "Feel better!" after her.

The halls were busy as everyone headed to their next class. Elsa heard a sharp burst of laughter as one of the students hopped up and down on the right side; something about a crush, from the sounds of it, and love letters. She dismissed this as unimportant and turned to the direction that would lead her to the healing wing. Brock arranged to have the quarters on the first floor of the main hall, where it would be easy for everyone to get to.

There was a swirl of wind, causing a torch to flare up next to one of the students.

"Oi! Watch it!"

The wind elemental snickered, and then melted into the crowd. Elsa parted from the corridor into the stairway that would lead down. She thought she could hear more wind spells being cast, followed by more shouting, but it was muffled now.

 _Careless,_ she thought. She once tried to tell them how dangerous it could be, but they just called her "stuck-up" and "killjoy". In the end, none of the wind antics actually caused any  _real_ damage. It annoyed everyone, but no one got  _hurt._

Elsa wondered why such things only happened to  _her._

Brock was busy in his office when she got to the Healing Wing; this early in the day, there was no one else seeking his attention, but he seemed busy with some filing, so Elsa sat down in the waiting room, her bag on the chair next to her.

She saw snow, and ocean waves. All was dark, save the white flakes lit by the full moon, and the heavy cold, like wet cloaks, weighing down, down, down. The ocean, she once learned, hid some fantastic creatures, beasts as big as buildings, fish that glowed in the dark. On the sea floor, beings of different shapes, some like stars, some like circles, crawled over the sands. Some of the trolls would mimic the calls and clicks and whistles of the ocean animals, the dolphins that played with the waves and the whales that dove deep into the darkness. She thought she heard echoes of their songs, ringing through the water.

"Child."

Elsa opened her eyes. Brock was resting a hand on her shoulder. She was slumping in her chair, having slid almost all the way down.

"Are you unwell?"

Now that she was here, Elsa suddenly wished she thought about this before presenting to the healing wing. What was her main complaint? She did not actually feel sick. She should have just endured.

Fortunately, Brock did not wait long for her answer.

"You look exhausted," he murmured, and laid a gentle hand over her forehead. "No fever. Hm. I don't sense anything wrong with you, but you have not been sleeping or eating well, young lady. Why don't you go get some rest? Do you want to lie down here, or go to your own room?"

"I think I'll just go back to my room."

"Of course. Feel better."

"Thanks, Brock."

Class was in session, so the halls were quiet, though every now and then a custodian would pass by. The sun was bright, and through the windows, the trees were a vibrant green. Elsa reached her dorm undisturbed, and she set her bag down on the carpet after shutting the door. She saw her library book on the dressing table, contemplated reading, before deciding she really could not digest anything to make that worthwhile.

Strangely, now that she planned on resting, she could not bring herself to go to sleep. Feeling bizarrely energized, she went to her desk and opened one of the drawers. Inside was a stack of letters, rather small but each one treasured, all addressed to her. The seal of the Queen of Arendelle was stuck to the corners of each envelope to hold it together. the latest one was a month ago, when her mother informed Elsa that there will be a wedding this month, which she and Elsa's father plan to attend. Wedding festivities being what they were, the guests were not likely to resume their normal routines until quite a bit later. Elsa was not to expect another letter until a week after the usual time.

It seemed silly to pen a letter now; the Queen would not receive it until days later even if she were in Arendelle. But Elsa was feeling too anxious, and desperately wanted to write.

 _Perhaps it will calm me._ It has before.

So she pulled out a chair and got her pen and ink, some blank sheets of paper, and began to write.

_Dear Mother,_

_I hope you and Father are well. At this time, I expect you're on a ship to the west coasts. I'm doing fine; classes are good, and the teachers remain kind._

_I just miss you._

Elsa looked at that last line, and crumpled the letter up before starting anew.

_Dear Mother,_

_I hope you and Father are well. I expect you're on a ship to the west coasts now, and won't see my letter until you return. I'm doing fine; classes are going well. My teachers say that I am progressing very well. I have more control over my powers, and I hardly freeze anything anymore without meaning to._

She suddenly remembered how the whole library had been coated with frost last night, and crumpled that draft too.

_Dear Mother,_

_I hope you and Father are well. I miss Anna_

Elsa blinked, and discarded that draft.

After doing what she did to Anna, how could she write something like that? That, and missing her parents. That would imply that she wanted to go home. She could not go back to Arendelle until she fully mastered her powers, or else she could hurt Anna again. Until she was in full, absolute control, she had no right to ask any such a thing.

No matter how much she missed home.

 _I should just sleep._ Clearly her brain was not working well enough to write a coherent letter.

Elsa set her pen aside.

* * *

The next week passed by more easily. Though Elsa still felt like something bad has happened, now she was able to convince herself out of it. She read and attended classes and did her homework. It might have helped that she paid extra attention not to stay up too late. The extra hours, she found, was not worth the completely listless fatigue the next day. All the information just knocked around uselessly in her brain, and she ended up performing more poorly for it.

But before the weekend, on a golden afternoon, while Elsa was being tutored on how to crystalize ice in such a way that it was soft and malleable as cloth—one of the trolls knocked on the door, interrupting the lesson.

"Cliff!" Elsa's teacher, Gothi, grinned toothily at their visitor. "Is there something we can do for you?"

But Cliff's countenance was grim. "I'm sorry, Gothi. I need to borrow Elsa for the rest of the day."

"Rest of the day?" Gothi frowned.

"Yes."

Cliff did not explain why he was retrieving Elsa, only leading her over to the headmaster's office. It was another extension of the main hall, leading to a tower via a spiral staircase. In the office, Grand Pabbie was sitting at his desk, and several other trolls were with him, including Bulda and Rockwell. His office was actually very green, with dozens of different plants lining the walls and shelves, vines weaving over door frames and portraits on the walls.

Grand Pabbie was the most powerful of the trolls, and also the wisest. It was said that his magic protected the school. He knew how to do everything, and often the other teachers would go to him for help if they were stumped. Elsa did not see much of Grand Pabbie except for the initial days, when her parents discussed with the headmaster about Elsa's enrollment. He seemed fond of her, though, or at least Elsa hoped so. He always made a point of reassuring Elsa that she was doing well, even though Elsa kept losing control of her powers. As headmaster, though, he was so busy all the time that they rarely crossed paths. Sometimes Elsa would see him at social functions, like the Winter Solstice, where Grand Pabbie always made the point of giving Elsa a birthday present. He was not as jolly as some of the other trolls, but he had a calm, quiet, soothing demeanor, and all the students loved him. He had a way of making everything seem manageable simply by being there.

The trolls were chatting in hushed voices. When Elsa entered, they all stopped, looked at her, and dispersed from the main desk to allow for more room.

"Elsa," Grand Pabbie stood and gestured. "Please, have a seat."

Apprehensive, uncertain what she did wrong that would warrant a meeting like this, Elsa did so, folding her hands nervously on her lap. The other trolls came behind her; she appreciated that, because this seemed less like a disciplinary event if they were not aligned across from her.

"I'm afraid there is no easy way to say this," said the headmaster. "We received news from Arendelle. A little over a week ago, the King and Queen had set sail for the west coasts to attend a royal wedding. Unfortunately, a storm formed while they were at sea. The ship perished. Your father and mother…were not among the survivors."

 _Snow,_ Elsa thought numbly.  _Waves._ The creatures of the deep, where the sun cannot reach.  _Silence._

"I am very sorry for your loss," said Grand Pabbie.

It must have happened that night, Elsa realized. Through the ice and cold, she sensed the silhouettes of their bodies, sinking. Mother, with the jewels in her hair, the soft lace and velvets. Father, with his strong shoulders and golden crown. 

She thought, when they first delivered her to the carriage that would take her away from Arendelle, that she would see them again one day. One day, when she finally stopped losing control of her magic. One day, when she finally deserved to go home. She use to imagine the proud looks on their faces, how her mother would hug her, and her father would pat her on the head and tell her she was a good girl. A good girl again.

Sometimes, when she was very lonely, she imagined what it would be like to see them again.

The trolls waited. After a moment, Bulda's hand was on her shoulder. "Sweetheart," the troll remarked gently, "it's alright to cry."

 _No. If I cry I'll unleash the storm inside._ Already, the world outside looked a little less golden. Clouds were forming, and it was Elsa's fault.

_Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel._

"Child?"

"Do we know for sure?" Elsa asked the Grand Pabbie. Surely there must be some kind of mistake. They did not  _know_ that the King and Queen did not make it. They could have caught onto some driftwood, like in the stories—

"I'm sorry, child." It was Rockwell. "Your parents did not make it."

Rockwell was clairvoyant.

_Well._

Elsa was trying very hard not to react. She felt like if she moved even a muscle, she was going to burst into pieces. There was a cold running through her blood that had nothing to do with actual ice, or magic, or temperature. She had only felt it once before, when her sister lay pale and still as death on the floor, and her parents had looked at Elsa with eyes full of horror, like she was a  _monster—_

"Anna," she whispered, hardly able to believe her lips could move to form the name.

"Your sister did not go with them," Grand Pabbie replied. "She stayed in Arendelle to run affairs in their absence."

_Anna is alive._

_Mama and Papa are gone._

Outside, it began to snow.


	2. An End and a Beginning

There were perks to being royalty.

Anna was sure she will remember them eventually.

"Pardon me, Your Highness; we just wanted to confirm," the handmaiden gestured to a tray, "which kind of velvet would be appropriate?"

"You're joking," the princess stared. "You have got to be joking."

"It's just that this one is patterned with the swirls and—"

"I don't care. You pick." Anna waved them off. "As long as it's all black, I don't care! It doesn't matter. You do realize this, right?"

"Um…" the handmaiden stammered.

Taking a little pity on her, Anna waved in dismissal. "I have no preference. I trust your judgment. Any one is fine."

"And…for the coronation, Your Highness?"

A pause.

The princess leaned back, staring mutely at the second tray, carrying samples of more kinds of cloth, this time different colors woven with gold brocade. She could not even come up with a snarky remark, let alone process what she was seeing to select the pattern she favored.

She hated them all.

Actually…

"These are all awful. Take them away."

"Yes, Your Highness."

There. That solved things quickly enough.

"Seriously?" Kristoff exclaimed from beside her. "You didn't even look at them!"

"Well none of them caught my eye. Why should I have to look at them any more than that?"

"It's your coronation, you know."

"Oh, goodness, Kristoff!" Anna feigned amazement for a moment, "I had no idea! Thank you for reminding me because I've gone all this time without any clue whatsoever!"

The blonde youth sighed. "You do know what they say about sarcasm, don't you?"

"Well forgive me for not using higher forms of wit as I deal with the ramifications of my parents' unexpected demise." Anna scooted forward in her chair and gestured over the paperwork that covered her desk. "Honestly, who came up with the idea of funerals?"

"I'm…sure they meant well?"

"Particularly funerals where," Anna pointed down at the sheets, "you need coffins when you don't have bodies? Tell me, how exactly does that make sense?"

There was a knock.

"Pardon me, Your Highness…"

Anna rested her head on her hand with a sigh. "Yes, what is it?" she grumbled at the manservant.

"The lilies for the funeral cost just a tad bit more than we expected—"

"Fine, whatever. Pay it and be done with it."

"And the carnations for the coronation—"

"Alright," Anna slammed her hand down on the desk. "From now on, no more talk about the coronation for the rest of the day. Ask your questions tomorrow, understand? Today, only funeral stuff!"

"Yes, Your Highness…"

"That's morbid," Kristoff cocked an eyebrow. "You sure you want this whole day to be about the funeral?"

"As a matter of fact, I do! Can you believe it, but the last thing I want to think about right now is my coronation!" Anna made a face of disgust.

"That's queenly of you."

"Oh please." Anna folded her arms and slumped back. "I'm going to be an awful queen."

When Kristoff spoke next, she was surprised to hear warmth and reassurance in his voice.

"You'll make a great queen. You've run Arendelle before. This is just more of a…long…term…basis."

Anna threw Kristoff a dirty look. "You say the dumbest things sometimes."

"…Thank you?" the young man remarked, clearly missing the point.

Anna considered him and pondered that it was times like these when she could really feel the difference in class between her and Kristoff. Kristoff was the steward's son, a commoner, who really only had to care about himself and what he needed to do the next day. If his parents died, he could actually  _mourn_ , and not have to worry about some ceremony to ascend the throne so that the country would remain in order. On his birthday, he only had to deal with people he liked, and not a bunch of strangers all eager to win royal favor for that royal favor alone. 

Most of all, Kristoff was allowed to be a total moron, and not have to worry about how this might affect a whole kingdom.

"You're not alone, you know," he then said. 

Well, sometimes Kristoff picks up more than he lets on.

"Thanks," Anna said, even though Kristoff was wrong; she  _was_ alone, mainly because no one else could shoulder the burden of losing her parents and having to pick up everything they left behind like nothing was wrong. All Anna had wanted to do since learning the news was curl up in the corner and cry. Her last words to her parents had been  _"Don't get too fat on the desserts!"_ Really? What kind of last words were those?

 _"It's so you though,_ _"_ Kristoff had pointed out when Anna tearfully admitted this to him—not that she had to, as she had called it out for the entire world to hear while her disgruntled father and chuckling mother boarded the ship.  _"I mean, I can just imagine them thinking, 'At least we didn't get fat on the desserts' and kind of laughing about it?"_

 _"You're an idiot, Kristoff,"_ Anna had said.

"I just hate this," she said quietly, and though she had not actually thought she was going to cry, her voice was thick with tears. "I mean, this funeral's not for _us_." And tears were gushing from her eyes and onto her cheeks. She sniffled to try to get her bearings, and meant to wait until the moment passed, but the words seemed to force themselves out of her. "I mean, none of this is for us. They're all for everyone else. Who cares maybe a little, maybe a lot. I don't know, but they're not _their_ parents. They're just the King and Queen to them. Their bodies aren't even here, it's all just for show, and we have to go through all the pomp and circumstance like it's some sort of festival, and I have to stand in front of a hundred thousand people all staring at me waiting to see if I'm going to cry or not, and I'm  _not supposed to_ even if I  _want to_. I don't  _care_ about any of this. If they want a spectacle, why can't  _they_ design it all? I don't want this funeral. I don't  _need_ this funeral."  _I need my parents._

Kristoff knelt next to her, resting a hand on the side of her chair; the closest he was allowed to be to the princess, short of touching her to keep her from falling or something. "Hey," he said softly, "look, if you really don't care…how about I just set up everything? It's not meaningful to you anyway. You can take today off."

That was  _very_ tempting but…

"No," Anna sighed, managing to rein in her composure. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm going to be Queen. In a few weeks. I can't run from things because I find them too hard. Thanks though. I appreciate it."

* * *

Planning the stupid funeral (and the subsequent coronation) did prevent Anna from succumbing to self-absorbed depression, though she had to wonder how she managed to make any sensible decision at all during that week. The worst part was the dual invites  _to_ the funeral  _and_ the coronation, and then making arrangements for all the visiting guests. When she did not know something, there was still that reflex to seek her mother or father, and it hurt, realizing that they were not there anymore, and she would just have to figure it all out herself and hope it turned out alright.

Having Kristoff by her side was actually not as good as having Sven, his temperamental and kind of evil reindeer, who would occasionally look like it was going to ram down whoever tried to come into her office. Anna had been trying for years to figure out how Sven was able to walk on the smooth, polished floors without sliding around, but Sven had to be the smartest reindeer ever to exist. It was definitely smarter than Kristoff, anyway, who continued to offer awkward platitudes and reassurances without knowing what on earth he was talking about. Still, part of his charm, and Anna had to admit that his occasionally airheaded remarks did a lot to lift her spirits, even if just a little.

But then the day of the funeral arrived, and Anna rode in the entourage bearing two empty coffins in a black carriage on the walk across the capital and to the burial grounds beyond. She was not sure if she preferred to have her parents actually in them, listening to the wheels creaking and the carriage jostling the contents. They rang the bell and raised the flag and fired the canons and drummed the drum and blew the horns and marched the march and saluted. She carried through the proceedings with dry eyes and kind of a dry face (because it was rather windy). At no point did she feel like crying. She did not feel sad, really. She felt crabby.

This was stupid.

At any point, at least three quarters of eyes were on Anna instead of the subjects in question. She felt like everyone was waiting for her to snap. It was almost a triumph not to, to feel minimal grief over a pointless ceremony commemorating absent individuals who were somewhere on the ocean floor. 

She was strong.

She was a princess.

Well, for another few weeks. Then she will be Queen. And she will be a strong queen, a dry-eyed queen, at least too smart to cry over a bunch of empty wooden boxes.

 ** _Boom._** The crypt shut.

"Long live the Queen!" someone cried.

_"Long live the Queen!"_

_What are they talking about?_ Anna blinked, before realizing she was wrong; she will not be queen in a few weeks. She was  _already_ Queen.

She burst into tears and turned away. Beside her, Kristoff moved forward to shield her with his broad shoulder. Sven herded around to urge her away from the spectators.

The day was not over yet. After returning to the capital, Anna had to meet with all the dignitaries who were present to offer their condolences. A bunch of them, she had never seen before, and was certain had never even met her parents, but she had to smile and nod and pretend she cared at all about what they had to say. She was quite drained and bereft by the time Prince Hans of the Southern Isles came to speak with her.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

Prince Hans had caught Anna's attention mainly because he was the least obnoxious of the potential princes Anna had encountered. Prior to departing for the wedding on the west coast, Anna's parents had invited the prince and his cousin, the Princess of Whitefarl, to visit Arendelle and see if they would get along. Having grown up alone, Anna tended to be lonely, without having too many friends she could relate to. The late King and Queen had invited several different princes and princesses, but Anna had trouble connecting with any of them. There was just something so supercilious about the bulk of them, each of them thinking so highly of themselves. None of them could raise their heads too high around Anna, granted, as at the age of fifteen, she was already helping her parents run matters of the state, and was known throughout the continent as a most accomplished noblewoman. That did not stop some of them from trying to show off, and Anna found this to be very off-putting. The princesses were vapid, only concerned about looks and boys, while the princes kept trying overstate their own abilities by diminishing Anna's own. Prince Hans was the only one who seemed to be willing to learn about Anna rather than teach her about himself. The two hours they had spent together were the most pleasant Anna could remember out of any of the nobles. Now, on this day of mourning, he also seemed to be the only one genuinely interested in Anna's well-being.

Not that there was anything he could do about it.

"I'm fine," she managed to summon a smile.

"You've done a great job," he told her. "You must be ready to rip everyone's throats out, with all this ceremony."

"Well," she shrugged and did not finish the remark, because she would have admitted to it and that would not be civil in present company. "One does what one has to, I suppose."

"Indeed. I won't take up much of your time, I know you must be ready for this day to be over."

 _You have no idea._ Prince Hans must be a mindreader, or something.

He bowed, and took his leave as he promised. Anna deeply appreciated that, since it was one less person she had to deal with. Any little bit helped, and it meant a lot that he was willing to leave her alone. So many people were already swarming around her; she could feel their intrigues lapping over her like slimy tongues. They wanted, wanted, wanted, and here was a young queen, barely old enough to rule, really. It was going to be a headache, sorting out truths from lies, how she was being manipulated and whether she wanted to go along with it, who to keep by her side, whose advice to take, who to trust—

"…for marriage…still quite young, but in a few years…can help with some of the responsibilities of being a sovereign, and—"

"Wait," Anna interrupted, brain drawing up short, "are you seriously talking about my marriage on the day of my parents' funeral?"

The dignitary flushed. "P-p-pardon me, Your Highness—"

Partially because she was actually fed up, and partially because this was as good a reason as any to end this nonsense, Anna snapped, "Enough. That's enough. I will retire. You can all talk about  _marriage_ amongst yourselves, but _you_ , sir, will get out of my sight. How  _dare_ you think of such things on a day of the late King and Queen!"

"My apologies! Your Highness!"

Anna turned around without another word and left the scene, the crowd awkwardly staring, unable to restart conversations but also unable to blame Anna in the face of such insolence.

Free from the so-called respectable crowd, Anna almost ran to her quarters. The servants bowed meekly when she passed, and helped her change out of her mourning gown at once.

She stared at herself in the mirror as they pulled out the pins and undid the braids, the ties around her waist, the brooch, the clasp of her necklace, the straps on her back. She had a round, childish face, wide eyes, and her long hair curled over her shoulders in a zigzag pattern. A single lock of white hair trailed from the right side of her head. It was a bizarre shock of contrast, which Anna thought was some mark of injury, but she could not remember why she felt that way.

She looked at her own face and tried to imagine that face being a queen. It somehow seemed wrong.

_I'm not cut out for this._

There was no one else though.

Well.

No one that  _could_.

Once upon a time, Anna remembered, she had a sister. Mama sometimes mentioned her, always with sadness. Papa never liked to talk about her. Anna herself only had vague memories; a caring presence, white hair and blue eyes, someone who protected her and played with her and loved her but was interested in similar things, unlike her parents, who were always busy with their royal duties. But all of the sudden Elsa was gone. They said she came down with some ailment and had to be sent away. Anna was not sure what happened to her, but it sounded like whatever affliction she had was permanent, and not something she could ever come home with. In any case, Elsa could hardly be queen; no one wanted a sick sovereign, and besides, most of Arendelle did not even remember the eldest princess existed. Anna herself could barely recall her face. The most she felt now was loneliness, like there was a companion who should be with her, but was markedly absent.

In a rush, she realized that she had forgotten to look for Elsa in the madness that was the last few days. The sad truth was that Anna herself sometimes forgot that she had a sister. In all these years on her own, Elsa's name had been a very rare utterance. Anna had a suspicion that her presence would bring shame upon the royal family somehow. She might have had some kind of brain problem, or became an imbecile, the way everyone did their best to forget about her.

The funeral was over and gone, so it was obviously too late to bring Elsa in to attend, but maybe the coronation?

The truth was, Anna was not entirely sure if her sister was even alive. It could have been that she had died. Maybe she was disfigured, and then died of illness. Imbeciles generally had other health problems. Even if she were alive, where did she end up going all these years? The late King and Queen never mentioned. Maybe Anna should look through their journals…

That was a problem for the next day, though. Tonight, Anna was done.

* * *

_"Come on Elsa! Let's go play!"_

_"Wait, Anna! No!"_

* * *

"They say it's going to snow again. I'm really sick of snow."

"Won't be too much longer before spring," said Hans.

"They say there are parts of the world that don't even know what snow  _is_ ," Anna leaned her elbows on the balcony. Today was a cloudy day, and everywhere was gray and sullen. "Makes you wonder why people decide to settle where they do. Maybe they didn't realize how winters can be in Arendelle."

"Perhaps because they were sick of summer," said Hans, with a light smirk. "All that sun, and the things that grow in warmer areas. Just imagine, little lizards and giant spiders crawling all around your home."

"Well we have spiders already. And rats."

Hans laughed.

Anna chuckled too, though her mirth quickly died.

"I always knew we were mortal…but I never thought they would leave this soon. Sometimes I still wonder if this is all just a bad dream."

Hans ducked his head down over the balcony. She knew he was considering the same thing.

"I thought I was taking my lessons seriously," she went on, "and whenever Papa had to go away for something, and Mama and I would stay behind to run things, or if they'd both go away, I mean it's happened before. Not often, but it's happened. I always saw that as a form of practice, but it's…it's different."

"I don't think there's really a way to prepare. I don't think anyone knows what it's like until they actually become sovereign."

"Right," Anna agreed. "And everyone's always remarking on how young I am."

"Give it a few years."

"Ha."

"Still, you're far ahead of others your age. I don't think anyone is  _truly_ worried, around here." Hans shifted to his side to lean against the rail. "It's just unexpected, that's all. No one really likes change that they don't see coming, and no matter what, you're new. They know what kind of leader you'll be, but they also _don't_ know."

"Of course not. Even I don't."

"You'll be a great Queen," Hans reassured her. "You're clever and…you've got people looking out for you. People and animals."

"That's very generous of you." Sven did not like Hans, for whatever reason. Animals were animals, no matter how smart they were.

"Why… _do_ you have a reindeer running around  _indoors_?"

"It's Kristoff's," Anna explained. "The steward's son, and my best friend around here. Years ago he rescued Sven as a calf, and Sven remained his loyal pet ever since. Initially we allowed it indoors because it was kind of sick, and we had it wrapped up in Kristoff's old blankets and tunics. It just…stayed. I think Papa would have kicked it out except it's actually really clean and doesn't cause any messes. Plus, Kristoff loves that creature."

"Kind of…bizarre…to keep an animal like that indoors."

Anna shrugged. "We've honestly allowed stranger things." The friendship between Anna and Kristoff, for one. Not that it was completely unheard of, but it was initially something Anna's mother had frowned upon, until they relented since Anna did not like any of the visiting princes and princesses. "I don't mind Sven. Sven is quite entertaining, and useful. Also very strong. That reindeer can easily outrun a horse if the situation called for it, and I would still bet gold and jewels that it's smarter than Kristoff."

Han almost snorted. "Your parents were very kind masters."

_Were._

"It's going to be alright," said Hans. "It's going to be hard no matter if you're fifteen or twenty-five or even forty-five. It's an odd feeling, being at the top with no one watching over you, but everyone watching you. Still, people have done it."

 _People have been assassinated,_ Anna thought morbidly, but did not voice it. She was not so close to Hans to divulge  _that_ fear, even though it was a fear all royals share.

"Something my father once said to me," Hans went on, "is that running a kingdom is hard. If it were easy, anyone could become king. You  _will_ make mistakes. They  _will_ have consequences, and they  _will_ wear on you, even if they wear on no one else. You can only try your best. So long as you do, you can live with yourself. People are fickle, and they love you one moment and hate you the next—no one except another king understands what it's like to sit on the throne, and they all are quick to judge. These people don't matter. As long as you keep your priorities straight, as long as you make your choices based on what is best for your kingdom, none of that matters. Surround yourself with people who have the same goal, and what would be an impossible task becomes possible, because you can take ideas and incorporate them into your task. In the end, as long as you are able to hand over an intact kingdom to your heir, or even hand over an intact people—you've done what you are meant to do."

"Thanks, Hans." And then, " _Ughhhh._ Can't believe they were already thinking about  _marriage_."

"That  _is_ kind of inappropriate," Hans agreed.

"The coronation is bad enough," Anna confessed. "I guess there was no way for a coronation to be a happy thing, really…but it's like pouring salt over wounds. I feel like I'm stealing the crown from my father."

"You're not stealing. It was yours."

"I know." Anna sighed. "It's just…so… _much_. I don't have any time for myself. Parents gone and I'm supposed to move on. Everyone's like 'We're so sad the King and Queen had passed. Alright, next!' And I just want things to slow down, even a little, but every second it's this and that and coronations and flowers and new bills and council meetings.  _Marriage?_ Forget it."

"Well, having a husband to help you might not be so bad," Hans pointed out.

"Assuming he helps, instead of just taking over," Anna grumbled. "In any case, I don't plan on marrying until I've settled in my new role. Bad enough that the people of Arendelle have to get use to me on a long-term basis. Bringing in a Prince-consort? I wonder what can go wrong."

Hans laughed. "You are a wise woman, Your Highness. Excuse me—Your Majesty."

"If wisdom's standards are low," Anna huffed. "In any case, enough about me and my woes. Are the staff taking good care of you?"

"Absolutely," Hans grinned, eyes warm. "You have no worries on that front. And…I hope you know that you can come to me for anything. Whether it's just to talk about you and your woes…or anything else."

Anna thought briefly of asking for his help in locating Elsa. Her parents were frustratingly discreet on the matter, and though she had perused different files and missives and journals searching for her elder sister's whereabouts, so far all she managed to learn was something about a 'Grand Pabbie' and a 'special school'.

But bringing up her sister would delve into another long conversation, one she was not sure she wanted to have with Hans right now. After venting about her own life, bringing up the subject of a sister no one knows about was just too much for now. Not to mention, kind and promising as Hans was, she was not quite willing to trust him all the way yet. Maybe later, when they have grown closer. Not right now.

"You're a good friend, Hans," she said instead.

It was nice to have an actual royal to confide in. Better than a steward's son. Unlike Kristoff, Hans never said anything vapidly inane. He actually understood.

Perhaps one day…

_Ah, will think about **that** later._


	3. Frozen Storm

_Dear Anna,_

_I hope you are doing well. I've thought of you often over the last few years. There is so much I've wanted to say to you. I know you don't care to hear them, so I won't trouble you with them. I just wanted_

Elsa stared at the sheet and the unfinished sentence. She just wanted to…what? Ask if she could come home? See Anna?

"Oi!" There was a knock on her door, and one of the girls opened it to poke her head in. "What are you doing in there, Frosty? There's like three feet of snow out there already! If you keep bringing it all down, you're the one shoveling everything!"

Elsa whipped her head around to look out the window. Sure enough, it was really coming down hard, so much so that the white filtered out the rest of the campus so that she could not even see the buildings nearby.

She took a deep breath.  _Control. Control._

The snow came down harder. Now there was a wind, and the trees created a whistle as the air gusted through their branches.

"Hey," the girl remarked. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." If only she could  _stop_ this snowstorm, one that she apparently was causing, and Elsa did not even know. She closed her eyes and focused, imagining she was pressing her heart down, compressing it, freezing it.

The wind died down. When she opened her eyes, it had stopped snowing.

"Well…" said the girl, "thanks, I guess. Though would be nice if you can get rid of all the snow too. It's three feet!"

Getting rid of snow was going to be difficult even on the best of days. Elsa looked at her poor excuse of a letter and moved away.

"I'll get rid of it," she stated, moving to the window to open it. Outside, the world was already covered in white.

 _Relax. Relax relax relax._ Warm warm warm.  _Loosen. Loosen._ No coiling, forming ice. Melting meant soft, warm, spread out, malleable. Ideally, evaporate, otherwise the campus grounds would be flooded.

It was hard to do, when everything in her was designed to form ice instead, designed to be cold. By the time Elsa cleared away the snow, the campus was drenched, though the water ran through the outdoor drains and poured down to join the groundwater. Her head hurt from all the attention and she felt faint and weak, like she had just gutted herself. Reversing her spells was always hard. She wished she could get away with just asking the pyrokinetic mage to melt everything.

"You haven't done something like that before," the student observed. "Are you alright?"

"I said I'm fine."

"…Fine."

The door closed as the student left. Elsa sat down her bed, feeling drained. Her headache throbbed, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to lie down. She looked at her desk where the letter rested, barely begun.

The trouble was, she had no idea what to write. It had been so long since she had seen Anna, and over the years her sister had never written to her. Elsa could not blame her; why would Anna ever want to write to her? Elsa was her older sister. She was supposed to protect her, and instead she hurt her, almost fatally. She wanted to tell Anna how sorry she was, but how could she do that if she was still losing control of her powers? Why would Anna care? It was not like any apologies were any use, as long as Elsa was still summoning storms out of nowhere. How was she supposed to ask Anna if she was allowed to visit home if she might freeze the whole court there?

It was starting to snow again.

Elsa looked out the window and sighed as she stood. Her head pounded even more when she dispersed the snow this time.

_I wish I didn't have magic._

There was a knock.

"Elsa, child. May I come in?"

It was Grand Pabbie. Elsa rose quickly and went to the door. Grand Pabbie regarded her for a moment when she opened it.

"Why don't you come with me," said the headmaster. "I'm in the mood for some nice, cold tea."

Elsa doubted Grand Pabbie was particularly interested in any tea right now, hot or cold. "I'm fine," she insisted. "This—it was just a fluke. I'm sorry—"

"Of course you're not fine," the headmaster interrupted. "I'd be concerned if you were. Now come. This is no time for a youngster like you to be all alone. You look like you haven't been able to shed a single tear. All that grief will go nowhere, cooped up as you are."

Elsa's temples gave another spasm in complaint. "I…I think I'd prefer to just lie down for a while."

"For your headache, hm?" the Grand Pabbie held his hand out. "A bit of tea will be good for that too."

That was a good point.

The troll's hand was rough and warm. Elsa imagined her own fingers must feel like ice. Grand Pabbie did not mention this, leading her silently from the dorms and into the dining hall. There was actually a layout of Elsa's favorites already on the head table: frozen custards, flavored ices and creams, as well as some salads and cold meats. There was a pitcher of iced tea as well. Grand Pabbie poured some for her after sitting her down.

Everything tasted wrong, though. Elsa nibbled a little at the sweet custard in disinterest. She drank the tea, which did little for her headache, sadly.

Outside, it was snowing again.

"You need to let it out," said the headmaster. "You can't close yourself in. That does nothing but make it more painful."

Elsa stared at the window. "Why do I keep doing that?" she asked. "None of the others seem to have this trouble. It's only me."

"You're a very powerful mage, young one. Naturally, your spells will be bigger, and more volatile. You've been doing well."

"No I haven't," she whispered bitterly. It began to snow harder, even though she was trying to rein it all in. "I wish I didn't have magic."

"This campus has dealt with a storm or two. We can weather your grief. It's alright to let go."

"It's not alright. I can't go home like this."

The headmaster frowned.

"Why do you say that?"

Elsa glared at her hands. "You know why. Papa and Mama told you. That's why I'm here."

There was a long pause. The snowstorm was turning into a blizzard again. Layers of snow were building up on the window panes.

"Child," said the troll, "you shouldn't keep blaming yourself for that. Plenty of people can hurt others even without magic. You have a gift that few others share, and there are mishaps others cannot imitate, but that does not make you any more dangerous to those you love."

"It's not a gift. It's a curse," Elsa squeezed her hands into fists. "I wish there were a way to get rid of it."

She had tried, in the beginning. Heard her parents ask Grand Pabbie before sending her away. When it became apparent that it was not leaving her, she had hoped to learn how to control it, intellectualize it, study the most intricate spells so that it would not manifest unless she allowed it to.

Then she could go home, and maybe her parents would want her again.

Could have.

It seemed like the last few years were all a waste.

"Letting it out now is better than letting it out there," the headmaster pointed out. "At this point, it is not safe for you to go back to attend the funeral."

Elsa was not even sure if she was allowed to go. She certainly would not go when she was in this state.

"I'm not going," she said flatly.

There was a long silence as the troll regarded her. Elsa looked down at her chilled tea, while the flurries continued outside.

After a long time, Grand Pabbie laid a hand on her shoulder. He had stood up while Elsa was simmering in her lost hopes. "Come with me."

He turned and started walking without waiting for Elsa to answer. Perplexed, she rose and followed. He went at an easy pace, and soon it became apparent that they were going to the library. At this hour, there were other students studying and doing their homework. Some of them looked up briefly at the headmaster, but otherwise did not pay the two of them much attention. The troll strode over to one of the aisles, unerring. He stopped to look at one of the shelves at face-level, before pulling a tome out.

This tome had no title anywhere. It was a weathered old volume, leather-bound, and nothing on the covers to indicate its contents. Grand Pabbie opened it, and flipped through the pages. Elsa did not see which chapter he stopped at, but he skimmed it briefly, before releasing a pleased chuckle.

"Ah, yes," he closed the book. "I remember now. When you get to my age, certain details are a bit more challenging to recall, but that is what books are for. Come with me, this way."

They left the library. Elsa was now curious enough about all of this that she did not feel so heavy anymore, so crippled. In fact, she was almost impatient to get to whatever the headmaster had planned. Grand Pabbie ambled at his easy pace, and only hummed when Elsa asked him what they were doing. He led her to one of the classroom towers, currently empty as classes were over.

"Do you know," the troll began, setting the book on an empty desk, "what sets elemental magic apart from other forms?"

Elsa blinked. "Well…it's more linked to emotion, so it's harder to control. It's…I don't know. More brute force."

"Your teachers have not been teaching you properly," Grand Pabbie lamented. "Or perhaps they have not been counseling you well enough, after all these years. Then again, what I am going to teach you is not something all of your teachers know. Elemental mages are some of the most powerful mages around. Power, of course, has many definitions, but what sets elemental magic apart from all others is that the elements are the main components of all things."

He gestured with his arm. "All things are made of some combination of elements. All life is a combination, and therefore, even so-called non-elemental magic: telepathy, clairvoyance, these all feature some mixture of the elements. To control the raw elements themselves is to control all things, so elemental mages have one ability no one else shares." He picked up the book and opened it to the chapter without even looking, and showed it to Elsa.

Elsa leaned close. "Sentient Snow," she read.

More specifically, the chapter was about how to  _make_ a sentient snow…being.

_"Let's build a snowman, Elsa! Heeheehee…"_

"Of course," Grand Pabbie's voice broke through the echoes of Anna's old laughter, "such creations are not as stable as if they were composed of  _all_ the elements, but as long as they are sustained by magic, they can persist for a long time indeed. The more powerful the caster, the more robust the creation. There are stories of such creatures living long after their creators passed away, often guarding treasure or the like." His eyes gleamed as he peered at Elsa. "What do you say, child? Do you want to see what you can do?"

* * *

Two days later, the school campus was dealing with a Snowgies problem.

"We're lucky they're made of snow," the fire mage complained loudly. "If I created firegies and they ran around like that, we'd be in big trouble."

"They are adorable!" Bulda exclaimed. "Oh! But what are we going to do when summer comes?"

" _If_ summer comes," the fire mage grumbled, because the Snowgies, rather than succumbing to the heating of the buildings, were cooling down the rooms they were in.

Most of the other students did like the little creatures. The Snowgies were very good at learning tricks, though they caused no end of mischief, much to the delight of students and the consternation of their teachers. Elsa found herself a little possessive of them when they seemed to favor other mages. She had no problem with their affection for the trolls, but some of the students, particularly the girls, seemed inclined to keep the Snowgies for as some sort of pets. This was still better, however, than when a couple of younger boys decided to treat them like actual snow experiments, trapping the poor things in containers to try to melt them, or trying to break off their limbs. The Snowgies were surprisingly resilient to these attempts, but Elsa was furious. She took a special satisfaction in scaring those juniors into never trying anything like that again.

Being feared had some advantages.

Still, there was a problem. The Snowgies were fun, but they were not particularly complex creatures. Like hyperactive puppies, they would get in all the wrong places and break all the wrong things, and there was no reasoning with them. They could not talk, for one, and while it seemed like they understood simple commands, they did not seem to have the interest nor the potential to comprehend anything beyond one or two-word phrases. The first Snowgie had been a pleasant surprise, but ever since, Elsa had been trying to create a being with more potential. This resulted in about thirty of the critters running around, but nothing that Elsa had actually aimed for.

She was in the library, jotting down notes, when she overheard a few students chatting in low voices as they entered through the double doors.

 _"…funeral was today,"_ one of them was saying.  _"It's so stupid, having to arrange these empty coffins when they haven't even recovered the corpses."_

_"They were good people. Can't believe both of them drowned. Good thing Princess Anna didn't go with them."_

Elsa stared ahead, her pen dangling limply between her fingers. The funeral was today. Elsa had not even known.

 _Calm,_ she automatically thought. She could feel something in her chest try to split, as if something were expanding inside it, cracking at the walls.  _Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't._

"…eighteen years old is surely enough, you can serve in the troops at that…oh."

The students came to a stop when they saw Elsa.

"Huh, come to think of it, thought you would be there for your own parents' funeral," one of them remarked.

Elsa merely stared, unable to reply.

His companion, a telepath, scoffed in dismissal. "Why would she? It's not like they're there, and she doesn't care. Never did. She doesn't even feel sad."

"Really?" The first student leaned forward a little. "You really don't care that your own parents died?"

Elsa blinked slowly, feeling like her entire body had slowed down in her effort to shrink down whatever it was in her chest. Shrivel it, compress it so that it takes less space, as cold so often does. She must have looked bored, languid, or some combination of both, because the second student made a " _Tch_ " sound and moved past her desk. After a moment, the first student leaned back.

"That's real cold," he muttered to his other friends.

"She always is," the second student called from ahead, sounding unimpressed.

After a moment, they strolled off awkwardly to follow the telepath.

 _Don't care,_ Elsa thought, as white snowflakes started floating outside.  _Don't care. Don't care._ She should not care what they say. If she started, she might bury the school. Besides, she had been called that before. Everyone thought she was apathetic, indifferent. And was she not trying to be exactly that?

Why was she upset, anyway? It was just a funeral. With two empty caskets for people whom were never found, people whom Elsa had not seen in years. It was a stupid ceremony, mainly just for show. Never mind that Elsa had tried to write to Anna, asking for permission to attend; ultimately she had never sent the letter and opted not to go, so what was she upset about? That she was not there for a pointless gathering?

That she was not invited?

The chatter of the other students, though hushed, sounded loud all of the sudden. Outside, the windows were gathering the flurry on the panes. Elsa took a deep breath, trying to compress that feeling in her chest again, but the conversations were so distracting that she could not focus. Letting out a sigh, she hastily gathered her books and left her post, almost bursting through the doors in her hurry. Her eyes burned, and she picked up her pace so that she was sprinting. The other students exclaimed in surprise as she rushed past, some swearing. 

Through the lobby, out the doors, where the snow was dense in the air and slid, so cold that they were powder dry, on the ground. There were some Snowgies playing in the courtyard. They looked at Elsa as she fled past, but though she was peripherally aware of them, she did not acknowledge them. The winding path led to the dorms, and she entered through the side door, running up the stairs as quickly as her robes would allow. The railings froze over with ice as she gripped them to heave herself up faster.

By the time she arrived in her room, she had started feeling nauseated. A disgusting slush was dripping from her eyes, thick and chunky, but she could not stop it. They filled up and poured down and she had to wipe them quickly before they froze to her cheeks. Her vision was blurred and she had to drop her books because she could not see her desk.

 _Control. Control. Stop. Stop._ The wind howled as the snowstorm turned into a full blizzard. She fell to her knees and let herself drop to the side to curl up on the carpet.  _Breathe deep, in through the mouth, out through the nose._

Why was she somehow reacting even more than when she first heard the news?

Why did it somehow hurt more this time?

There was snow building up on the carpets, and the nasty slush was still pouring down her cheeks, like paint. She clenched her fists and flexed her elbows and knees, making herself as small as she could as she tried again to control herself.  _This is why you aren't there. This is why no one invited you._

After what she did to Anna…Elsa shut her eyes.  _Stop stop stop stop stop—_

"…Look at this room! It's a  _mess!_ Snow is very nice and all but it really doesn't belong indoors…"

Elsa's eyes popped open. Who dared to enter her room without her permission?

A white figure was waddling around by the bed and then the wardrobe, which were both, as it happened, covered with snow.

"Ooh but look at the courtyard! It's so beautiful! Everything is so clean and white, although those trees look so sad."

It was…a…snowman.

That could talk.

Elsa sat up. She blinked, trying to clear her vision.

The snowman was not exactly a typical snowman, even without the ability for speech and spontaneous voluntary movement. For one thing, it had little feet, which Elsa never remembered anyone bothering with when they built snowmen. For another, the head was ridiculously huge, instead of being the smallest of three sections; almost as big as the base. When it grinned at her, it displayed two buck teeth (with no other teeth in its mouth that she could tell) while large round eyes crinkled with the smile.

"Hi!" it exclaimed. "Oh! You've got all that snow on you too! They're all over your face." He waddled over. "Oh, but…hm, I would wipe them off for you but I don't have anything to do that with. I'm kind of just more snow. I guess you'll have to do that yourself."

* * *

_"Are you alright, sweetheart?"_

_"Were you upset earlier today?"_

_"Did someone upset you?"_

"I'm fine," Elsa told all of the teachers.

"I love buttons!" Olaf cried, admiring himself in the reflections in the windows. "Oh, these make me so stylish! Oh, and I bet I can change their colors too, if I just pluck them off;" he did so with the new branch-arm Elsa fashioned for him. The snowman then put it back. "Oh I look so good!" He felt his carrot nose, and did a little turn.

Olaf proceeded to endear himself to everyone on campus. He was cheerful, gentle, and as warm in personality as he was cold in figure.

"How'd you make him?" the fire mage asked, sounding both awed and put out.

"I don't know," Elsa replied. She had no idea how something like him could have been borne from  _her_ powers, and at a time when she had felt anything but cheerful or warm.

"You don't know how you made your own creation?" her classmate exclaimed in disbelief.

Elsa turned away, as Olaf waddled back.

"Can I go play with the first years?" he asked.

Elsa reached out to pat his head. "Of course you can," she said in a soft voice.

He gave her a hug with his stickly arms. "You should come too!"

He was cold, but somehow his embrace felt as comforting as if it were from real, living flesh. So innocent. A young life. Elsa looked over his head to see the said first years, each one small and slight in their own way. They would not want her to join them.

"Maybe next time," she whispered, unable to explain why she could never play with the children.

"Aw," said Olaf. "Then I'll stay with you, so you won't be lonely."

Elsa blinked, surprised by the snowman's decision. She had expected him to run off; everyone liked the Snowgies, everyone liked him. No one liked her, and she had not thought he would choose to be with her.

He was still hugging her, looking up at her with his inquisitive eyes, like a child.

"I'm not lonely," Elsa told him.

For the first time in forever, this might actually be true.


	4. The Royal Wardrobe

"Uh," Kristoff trailed, "um, I…don't…get colors? So, um, I guess the, uh, aqua one is pretty good? Arendelle's known for the glaciers and it's kind of…blue?"

"I look better in green and yellow though…" Anna frowned. She sighed. "I was born during the  _summer_ solstice. If ice is supposed to represent Arendelle…it's kind of ironic."

"Well, can't argue with more summer. It's cold enough as it is."

Sven made a bleating noise, as if in agreement.

_I swear, that reindeer is smarter than Kristoff._

"Ugh. You know what, let me ask Hans."

"Hans?" Kristoff blinked. "You mean Prince Hans?"

"Yes I mean Prince Hans," Anna turned around. "He has to choose fabrics too, so he probably has better taste than you anyway."

Well, definitely, if his current wardrobe were anything to go by.

"I don't know if that's appropriate," Kristoff frowned.

"Huh?"

"I mean, he probably  _does_ have better taste _,_ but he's not from Arendelle." Next to the blonde, Sven was also scowling; it was amazing how expressive the reindeer was. Or perhaps Anna was just good at reading reindeer faces after spending so much time with those two. "This isn't any random ball; this is your coronation. It's a once in a lifetime thing and you're becoming the monarch of this kingdom."

"It's just a bunch of fabric, Kristoff."

"Right, but you're sure going through a lot of effort to pick which ones you're wearing," he pointed out.

Anna bit her lip, because as much as she wanted to deny it, Kristoff was right. It was just a bunch of fabric, and it was just a show for the masses, but it all meant more to other people and Anna had to make sure she got it right.

"Well who  _would_ be appropriate?" she grumbled in annoyance. "Can't exactly ask Gerda or one of the maids; they wouldn't necessarily know the nuances either." Spontaneously, an image of a fair, snowy-haired girl misted into her mind.

"Well maybe—"

"Do you remember my sister?" she interrupted.

Kristoff was thrown for a loop. "Uh…what?"

Anna sighed. "I guess you don't."

"No, no, I do. But…she's been gone for years."

"Do you remember why? And where she went?"

Kristoff was quiet for a while. "I don't know for sure, but this is what my father told me: Years ago, when you were about five years old, you and your sister were playing in the main hall. You were injured, and they said she was the one who did it. It was very bad; you nearly died. She got sent away shortly afterwards."

"You're sure?" Anna frowned, not sure why she felt that this story was wrong. "They said she hurt me."

"That's why you have that lock of white hair," Kristoff nudged in her direction with his chin. "It's sort of like a scar."

"They sent her away for that? How old was she?"

"My age."

"She was  _twenty-one?_ " That could not be right.

"No no no, I meant she and I are the same age…now, so however old I was then."

Anna blinked rapidly as she did the math. "She's your age…that would make her eight years old."

"I don't know if you were having a sister's spat or if it was all a pure accident," Kristoff lowered his voice, "I mean, given your charming personality I wouldn't be surprised if it's the first—"

"You jerk!" Anna exclaimed, throwing the fabric samples at him while trying to suppress her laugh. "I'm trying to be serious here!"

Kristoff gave her a look that had Anna feeling quite awkward all of the sudden; his eyes became very soft and warm and she had no idea why he was looking at her that way.

"Well, why did they send her away?" she asked, to bring them back on topic. "Why didn't they just slap her palm with a ruler or something?"

"Well," he replied as he gathered the fabric from where they dropped on the floor, "Father said that it was because whatever she hurt you with was…magic."

"… _Magic?_ "

"Mmhmm. She hit you with some kind of ice bolt. And when your parents found the two of them, there were piles of snow melting around in the main hall."

"… _Magic?_ "

"I wasn't actually there," Kristoff reminded her, "Father just told me later on."

"That's  _crazy!_ No one in my family has  _magic!_ Do you think this means I can do magic?" Anna looked at her hands.

"Of  _course_ that's the part you focus on."

 _Focus._ "Right. I want to know where she is. Is she still alive? I mean I haven't heard anything from her in all these years!"

"Uh," said Kristoff, before helplessly holding up the fabric, "shouldn't you pick these out first?"

"Well I want her to attend the coronation," Anna slipped past him.

"Um, is that really a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it?" she exclaimed back as she reached the door. "She's my sister!" She opened it and stepped out.

* * *

The late King's office did not yield any clues, much as Anna had expected; they had gone through his office prior to his funeral while making arrangements and never came across anything to alert Anna about her sister, so she would be surprised if they found anything new. She lingered there for a moment anyway, remembering multiple times when she had come here to see him reading over files or holding discussions with his advisors; most of the royal decisions were made here—the throne room was, as with many things in royal life, just for show.

She had not moved her own office yet, obviously. Eventually, she will; no sense in keeping this room empty, and it was  _better_ ; bigger, with better windows. She just was not ready yet. If she moved here, this would no longer be her father's office. She would have to replace all the old files and knick knacks with her own—well, not necessarily  _replace_ , but the fact was that it would still no longer be her father's office, and right now it was. She had decided not to move here until her coronation; that seemed like a reasonable time, and also the latest she could get away with it.

 _I'm not ready,_ she thought.

One rarely is, though.

Her mother's study, however, proved far more fruitful. Inside one of the drawers was a secret chamber, and there were stacks of letters. The top letter was barely over a month ago, written in an elegant cursive that resembled her father's handwriting so much that for a moment, Anna thought they were love letters between her parents.

"'Dear Mother,'" she read aloud to Kristoff, who was trying to prevent Sven from chewing on the curtains. "'School has been going well. I am getting better at controlling it; there hasn't been a winter storm at all for a while now.'" She skipped the bulk of the passage to the end. "Your loving daughter, Elsa."

So her name was Elsa.

"You're actually right!" Anna exclaimed. "She must have had magic! And she went to a school! But there's no return address on these things." She looked back in the middle of the passage. "'I hear that Anna is getting quite tall now, and growing more beautiful by the day. I think of her often.'"

_Oh._

Elsa never failed to mention Anna, though the recent ones were more brief. Further down the stack, Anna could appreciate the change in handwriting as they morphed from an adult's smooth script to a child's awkward blockiness. Early on, dated years ago, Elsa would write whole paragraphs about Anna, some of them a frantic mantra, and Anna could almost hear the child's frightened sobs in the tear-stricken words. 'I didn't mean to do it.' 'I'm so sorry.' 'I keep wishing every day that I had been faster, better.' 'We were just playing.' 'Is she alright?' 'Please tell her I love her, she has to believe me'.

The letters were all one-sided; obviously her mother sent out her side of the conversation. At first, Elsa responded to these in great detail, so that Anna could guess what it was her mother must have said: Anna was getting better, she was recovering, everything was alright. As time went on, though, Elsa's words became limited. She stopped apologizing; she had done so for every letter for the first year, but she had also written almost every day for the first two months. Her tone became less obvious too, after the first year; more dispassionate, aloof. Cold. Other than the brief mentioning of school and her progress, which seemed to waver back and forth in terms of control—and control was a main theme in all of these letters—Elsa revealed little of her life, wherever she was. No mention of friends. There was one sentence in a letter years ago that remarked on how she was hopeful that she might be "in control enough" to come home, but she never mentioned coming home since. The letters from this year were the shortest, almost curt. It was like Elsa was getting stifled, going from the passionate, loving child into someone with no feelings whatsoever.

_I am getting better at controlling it._

"Anna, wait!" Kristoff called behind her as Sven bugled, but Anna continued to run down the hall. She wiped at her eyes as she ran, which was why she could not see where she was going, and slammed bodily into Hans, who caught her as they both stumbled.

"Your Majesty! What is it?"

"What's wrong?" one of his entourage exclaimed.

"What happened?"

Anna opened her mouth to insist that she was fine, but what came out was a sob. After that, she could not summon the effort, and stood there helplessly, crying like a child. Hans looked at her in concern, holding her by the arms to keep her steady.

"What happened?!" he exclaimed, aghast, and looked up. "You! What has happened here?"

"Uh, we were doing spring cleaning and she got upset," Kristoff responded, because Kristoff was an idiot. When Anna tried to correct him, however, all she could manage was another wail. Her mind was a whirlwind and she was so…so…

_Angry._

"Let's sit her down, sire."

"Yes," Hans agreed. "You!" he called out to Kristoff, "go fetch her some tea, it will soothe her nerves. I'll stay with the Queen. Hush, now, it's alright." He cradled her to him, and Anna allowed this because she was too preoccupied with swallowing her screams. "Let's sit you down. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it."

* * *

"Thirteen years," Anna said through gritted teeth, clutching her cup until her knuckles turned white. "Do you know how many letters that is? And there were at least sixty in the first two months, and then they came every week, every month. Hundreds of letters."

"Anna," Hans whispered.

"'Please tell her I love her,'" she hissed, "Well, clearly my mother didn't do that. And none to my father, or maybe he just threw them out. We'll never know now, will we?"

"I know you're very angry," he soothed, "but I'm sure your parents were just protecting you."

"From  _what?_ From being the worst sister in the world? Kind of did the opposite there! Even in the last one, she said she thought of me often, and I barely even remember  _having_ a sister at all!"

"Anna…" Hans handed her a handkerchief as more tears spilled down her cheeks, and Anna took it, digging it into her closed eyes like that would somehow stem the flow.

"She was so scared, you could tell," she muttered. "I was hurt and she wasn't allowed to be with me, and she kept asking if I was angry with her, if I knew she didn't mean to do it—whatever _it_ was. I don't know if she thinks I  _am_ angry with her. I'm not sure I want her to know the truth." She sniffled so she would not have to blow her nose into Hans' handkerchief, and sighed.

"It sounded like she couldn't come home anyway," Hans murmured. "If her letters keep wavering about her control, maybe her control really is wavering. If your parents told you about her only to have to keep her away anyway, what would that accomplish?"

"At least I would have written her, told her I don't blame her," Anna dabbed her cheek as more tears overflowed. "I mean, she was eight years old, and I was five. As Kristoff pointed out, I probably was a brat."

"You didn't deserve to be killed."

"She wasn't trying to kill me," Anna rolled her eyes. "She probably just lost her temper, and her magic reacted, and oops. I mean…looking at all these letters, there's no way she would have meant to hurt me at all. And all these years, she never got any acknowledgment from me. Maybe her control would have improved if she heard from me." She suddenly slammed the handkerchief down. "This is thirteen years we'll never get back!"

"Look, look," the prince soothed, "there may have been other reasons why your parents never told you about her. Up till today, you didn't even know her name. I understand why you're angry; I would be too. You're a kind person, Anna, and you're hurting on your sister's behalf. But you don't know the whole story; none of us do."

Anna scowled. "There's no other story to know! What more do I need to know, seriously? She's my sister, she got tossed aside for an accident and now she's somewhere out there, thinking I hate her, when all this time I simply didn't know she existed, which I can't tell if it's worse. What more is there?"

"Well, her…magic, for one. It could be really dangerous—I mean…she even hurt _you_."

"So?"

"Well, what if she's dangerous to the rest of Arendelle?" he pointed out. "She was eight years old when she hurt you with her magic. Since then, she's gone to a  _school._ She probably only grew more powerful over the years, and now instead of just being able to nearly kill her own sister, she could kill everyone in the kingdom."

"She's not going to kill her own people," Anna spat, growing irate despite knowing that Hans was merely stating true possibilities. "She's my  _sister_ , and the daughter of King Agnarr and Queen Idunna, who are both  _my_ parents, the same ones who raised me!"

"I'm not saying she'd do it on purpose," Hans held his hands out to placate her, "but what if she really can't control it?"

"Well it doesn't matter! She should still know that I love her! I should  _still_ be allowed to love her!!"

Anna had shouted the last words, so loudly that her own ears were ringing a little bit. The silence afterwards was heavy. Hans stared, speechless for once. There was no one else in the room; the prince had sent everyone else out, including Kristoff and Sven, who had left unhappily, but Hans did not think Anna could handle too many people, and Anna felt he was right.

In fact, Anna felt even Hans was a little bit too much. Still, he made for a good sounding board, much as Kristoff had. And if he had been saying the sort of dumb things Kristoff would say, well, that was because Hans did not know any better, being a foreign prince.

She sighed, calming. "You're right," she said quietly. "I don't know the whole story. I think we should fix that. I'm going to find my sister. The letters don't say which school she went to. I'll have the investigators look into it."

"Um," Hans frowned, "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why not."

"She's older than you. That…gives her the same rights to the throne, technically. If you locate her, and this news spreads, there may be…you know…"

"That won't happen," Anna waved him off. Elsa loved Anna too much. There was no way her sister would do anything to hurt Anna, especially not over something like the crown. Besides, even if Elsa wanted the throne, Anna would just give it to her. Nothing wrong with that; they were sisters. What difference did it make, which one was actually titled the Queen? "I appreciate your concern, but I will find her whereabouts if it's the last thing I do."

_I will make this right._

"In that case," said Hans, "allow me to take over the investigation."

Anna looked at him in surprise. "You?"

"I think it's unwise to allow more people to know of your sister without knowing what she is capable of," he stated. "This information could be used to harm you. I will be discreet, and if she does prove to be dangerous—"

"She won't—"

"Then no one else has to know, but if she proves to be safe we can let everyone know later." He held out his hands. "No harm done."

Anna considered. Part of her felt uneasy. Hans should not be taking care of this business; it was too intimate, too personal. But he was right; he already knew, and if they wanted this information to stay quiet, she might as well stick with those already in the know.

 _I shouldn't have confided in him._ That had been a moment of weakness and poor judgment. Fortunately, he seemed eager to help, rather than mock her for being emotional. And he wanted her favor, for the future—even Anna was not daft enough not to realize this. Why not allow him to earn it?

"Very well," she replied. "You will take over the proceedings, Prince Hans."

"Your wish is my command, Your Majesty," he stood up and bowed.

"Stop that," Anna snapped. "I'm snotty and gross and not in the mood. Since you're here anyway, you might as well tell me which colored fabric I should choose for my coronation gown."


End file.
